Revolutionary Rose
by Hitomi-chanchan
Summary: it is 1777,Amelia Rose is young women growing up in the warring coloines. When her brother is killed at war, she swears to avenge his death, and inlists, but romance is not far off, the General seems very intrested in her, yaoi warning! manily AxS though
1. Warning

**Standard Notice for All Who Intend to Continue Reading.**

**Hello, this is the author Hitomi, I would like to make a statement before you being reading, this fanfiction is very old, which mean an unprecedented amount of errors, clichés, bad spelling, bad tact, uncalled for and unjustly outspoken opinions and the like. I am not proud of these works and will take them down shortly in lieu of something far more tolerable. **

**If you wish to continue reading, but all means go on.**

**(*) NOTES SPECIFIC TO THIS STORY(*)**

**I really do not care for this fanfiction anymore and may or may not re-write the entire thing. It will most certainly be taken down shortly, It is most defiantly weird, and painfully poorly written. I do not mean to discredit myself as an author, but please keep in mind how OLD this is.**


	2. Chapter 1

Revolutionary Rose

ok, because I'm freaky about being historically accurate, or as accurate I can be with the frickin intent, the chapters may be a while in coming. Please don't be offended by little things like the mention of slaves or yaoi, because this is technically a yaoi, even though the main couple is boy girl. Oright, I was as accurate as I could possibly be, however, if I screwed something up, please let me know so I don't repeat it in future chapters.

_Just incase your really stupid like me and these things aren't obvious, here are the name changes_

_Amelia Rose-Amy Rose_

_Andrew Rose-OC_

James Hawk-Jet the Hawk

_General Shade Hedge-Shadow the Hedgehog_

_Miles Powers-Miles 'Tails' Powers (sorry, but duh)_

_Drunk guy one-OC_

_Drunk guy two-OC_

_So here it is! _

In the early 17oo's,

The British came to the new land, mostly dominated by the French and Spanish, as well as the local inhabitants, the Native Americans. By 1775,The 13 British colonies where formed, but trouble plagued this new land. The British and the Colonist began to quarrel, and soon, war broke out.

"I can't believe your doing this! Amelia, shouted at her older brother. "Your only fifteen, for lords sake! Your not even of legal age!"(1) Her brother just looked down at her from the horse he was mounted on, his bright red hair tied back in a black bow. (2)

"Amelia" He sighed, getting down off of his horse. " You don't understand, this is a great opportunity for me. I could become a hero, and go on great adventures, away from this horrid plantation."

"This war will claim your life!" she pleaded. Her brother sighed and took her face in his hands.

"Amelia, I wont die, I promise you, I will return." He kissed her forehead lightly. "I'll win this war for you" he promised. Amelia embraced him

"I'm begging you," she whispered into his over coat. He stroked her long crimson hair gently.

"Amelia, I must go now, promise me though, you will not give up hope" he touched the heart locket around her neck lightly. She nodded, tears filling her eyes. "Say that you promise"

"I promise, I will pray for you every night, and I'll always watch the horizon for your return." He kissed her hand lightly and mounted his horse.

"Take care of mother until father returns, and tell him where I have gone, if he cares to ask." He said looking down the road. Another boy his age, with blonde hair and bright blue eyes was waiting at the end of the lane, his chestnut horse stamping at the ground. He said goodbye to his sister and rode off down the lane, he raced passed the other boy who turned his horse and followed him.

Amelia stood watching the two disappear. The blonde boy was Miles Powers, a sweet boy, who couldn't hurt a fly. She turned back to the huge plantation, picking up her frilly floor length dress; it was all black, in the morning of her brother leaving. She entered the plantation house, her eyes still filled with tears, a passing slave offered her a cloth, but she just shook her head and kept walking. She went up to her room and sat by the window, awaiting the sun to set, and watching the horizon.

Amelia was fifteen when the letter came to her and her mother, that Arthur had died in the battle of Brandywine, New York, on September eleventh in 1777,(3) her mother had gone into hysterics and had been confined to her bed. Amelia was not much better off. She wasn't quiet sure how to handle this, her brother had broken a promise, perhaps the most important promise he had ever made to her. She became angry with him, furious, the hurt brought down upon her was nearly smothering. She sat in her room, refusing access to anyone for three days. Then a thought struck her.

The rain was beating against the windows in her room on the south end of the plantation. She raised her eyes slowly from the fan she held in her hands.

" It wasn't his fault," she whispered. "The fault lies with the man who killed my brother. The man who made Arthur break his promise, he is the one to blame…" she though for a moment, then she made up her mind. "And I must kill him, with my own hands." She went over to the window; a patrol of soldiers was passing along this road, heading for the fort a few miles up the river. She new that women would not fight in the war, let alone fifteen-year-old noble young women. _No matter, they don't have to know my gender, as long as I look like a man_.

She turned to the mirror, studying her self, thankfully without a corset she was not extremely developed. She left her room for her brothers, and looked through the clothes, taking a random outfit, she brought it back to her room, avoiding the slaves. She undressed and redressed, in her brothers cloths. Her breasts where still visible through the under shirt and the over jacket, which was meant to be left open. She thought for a moment, then redressed in her regular clothes, and went in search of some cloths.

She wrapped these cloths around her bust, and then put the shirt and jacket back on.

"Much more believable." She looked at herself, suddenly noticing her waste length bright red hair. She frowned. Then took out a small knife she kept for protection. She looked at it for a moment, and then sighing deeply, she grabbed a lock of her hair, and sliced the knife through it. She winced as it fell to the ground, she decided she could not bear to look at the hair slowly falling around her, and kept her eyes fixed firmly on the reflection of her locket in the mirror. "Its for Arthur, its for Arthur" she kept repeating to herself.

Finally, it was done; she looked at her reflection and gasped. It was a completely different women, no, a young boy, staring back at her. Her face was still agile and feminine, but other wise. It was a perfect disguise. She still had much to decide, such as how to leave the house, where to go, and so on. She spent the following hours until dusk approached planning.

She cracked the window and looked down, she was on the third floor of the house. She prepared herself gathering the cloak also taken from her brother and tied it around her neck. She jumped out and landed in the hey below her window. She rubbed her ankles and looked up and around, making sure no slave had seen her. Getting up she crept to the side of the house, then looking around again, she dashed across the huge yard to the fence and into the farm house, she put the satle and ranes on her white mayor as her brother had secretly taught her to do and mounted it, side satchel. She stopped for a moment, and readjusted her position to how a man would sit. With that she whipped the ranes, commanding the horse to run forward. She steered her onto the lane and down into town.

She came to one of the taverns; she could here drunken laughter and loud talks from inside. Luckily she didn't have to go in, there was a board outside the tavern, a sheet of paper posted to it, she read the information quickly, it was what she was looking for, a requiting add, for soldiers it gave the place to go and what was required. She would have to go to a training camp first. (4)

"I expected this to take long, and to be hard" she sighed, then straitened up, hoping no one had heard her talking in her normal voice. It, combined with her facial structure, huge liquid eyes and long delicate limbs, was a dead give away. She cleared her throught and turned back to her horse, walking down the wooden steps.

"Hey!" said a loud voice behind her. She turned, to see two tall men, standing in the light of the open tavern. "You have a pretty face their boy," one of them said stepping for to get a better look at her. They where obviously drunk. "Come here" he said, his voice slurred with alcohol. She turned and leapt onto her horse, without a word to them.

"Where do you think your goin' pretty boy?" shouted the other one, lurching forward.

'Hiya!" she yelled, lowering her voice, and snapping the rains, the horse leapt forward and carried her off down the street, she could here the men behind her shouting for her to come back. _They thought I had a pretty face? Good lord, I hope they where just really drunk._

The next day, she went to the place men from New Jersey would meet to leave for the training camp. No one noticed her secret identity. Not even a boy she meet often in church, James Hawk, he looked directly at her, then back to looking around. There where men and boys, some younger than her, from both her town and others nearby. Soon a general of little importance came to escort them the training grounds.

"Alright men, listen up" he barked. "Your all here for one thing, to win freedom from Britain, now, your all gonna fall on your asses if you don't get proper training first."

Amelia was appalled by his rude words, then remembered that she was not a lady right now; she was a teenage boy, used to it. "This training is gonna be hard, I mean really hard, I wont lie, most of you will not see the end of this war, or the end of your term." He ranted on for a while then began the march back; it was tiring beyond anything Amelia could have imagined. They marched four miles, many of the men where groaning and complaining, but Amelia kept her mouth shut, determination not to seem weak over powering her other senses.

"Hey," whispered a voice to her left, she glanced to see who had spoken, and for a tiny moment, fear flitted in her heart. James Hawk was walking along side her, regarding her closely. "Do I know you? You look really familiar." She shook her head quickly.

" I know I've never seen you…" she said, making her voice gruff. He nodded/

"Well listen, I know you and I will probably be separated after this but, lets stick close for now." He said smiling at her. She tried to keep the blush from her face, she know it didn't mean the same thing it would have if she where still a women, but she couldn't help but think she saw something in the eyes of this boy. Yet oddly enough, she felt it would be good to have someone to rely on. She nodded.

"I think that would be a good idea," she said smiling back.

"I'm James hawk," he said bowing slightly as they walked. Amelia returned the bow.(5)

"Andrew, um, Smith" James raised his eyebrows.

"Common name I guess" he said shrugging.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, I knew an Andrew Smith, he left for the war when it first broke out, I'm sure he is dead now, so, pay no mind to it." Amelia smiled. She quiet liked James already. He was a Gentleman, even to a fellow Gentlemen with no women around. They reached the camp shortly after nightfall, they where all given there own tents to pitch. Amelia and James shared one, and where among the first to get there's up. They stood waiting for further orders while the others finished putting up the tents. They where all brought to attention by a calm yet overpowering voice, calling for them to stand. They all stood up strait as he approached. Amelia's eyes widened as a tall man with deep almost red eyes and raven black hair entered the light of the nearby fire.

"My name is General Shade Hedge, I will be your commanding officer, for your remainder here, and perhaps, if assigned to my troops your permanent general. Your training starts tomorrow, I advise you al to get well rested, it will be brutal, and I'm almost sure you'll regret coming." he smirked at the men, most respectfully lowering there gaze to him, Amelia did the same when his gaze turned to her. He grew an odd expression and came over to where she and James where standing. He lifted her face to catch her attention, some of the men gasped;(6) he stared hard into her eyes.

She did her best to stand perfectly still, and to keep the blush from her face. Not easily done.

"You seem to be very…fragile, where you a sickly child?" he asked her. She nodded, and realized he still had her chin in his hand. He released her face and gave her a slight grimace. "Are you sure you should be here? Wouldn't want you to die from a cold or something/' he sneered. She leveled her gaze with the general, still respectful.

"I'm fairly sure I can handle the cold, General Hedge" she replied, making her voice gruff again. He stared at her for a moment, as if contemplating something, and then he quickly averted his gaze, turned his back on her and walked back to the front of the group.

"Like I said, get some sleep, the training to save you lives begins tomorrow." The others began going into there tents. James stared off after the General. When he turned back to her he was frowning.

"He didn't have to grab your face like that…" murmured James as though to himself. Amelia gave him a look

"Sorry, what was that?" she asked. He looked up in shock, covering his mouth.

"N-nothing, um, goodnight" with that he ducked into the tent, crimson brushed lightly on his face. 

1,most who sighed up for the war where under the legal age (16)

2,proper noble men wore there hair back in ponytails

3,the patriots(Americans) lost this battle

4,im not sure if this really happened then, but I couldn't find anything about this kind of thin, it also fits a lot better with the story

5,it was considered proper edicate to bow to a person the first time you meet them

6, to touch another person was considered an extremely intimate thing to do to another person, aside from kissing a women's hand, or a women holding the arm of a man.

Hope you liked it, it was a long time coming.


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